


A Christmas Carol

by Sarah_Black



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, Dickens with some dick, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Smut, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Older Man/Younger Woman, Past Joffrey Baratheon/Sansa Stark, Stannis is Scrooge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 08:28:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12955308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_Black/pseuds/Sarah_Black
Summary: Stannis did not like Christmas.





	A Christmas Carol

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to Tommyginger and Eilit for their work getting us Stansa yacht people to do something fun for the holidays! I'm excited!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I am neither Dickens nor Martin. I doubt Dickens cares what I do, though. I also do not own Terry Pratchett's Grim Reaper.

Stannis did not like Christmas.

It was absurd that people took so much time off work just to indulge in gluttony and materialism in the name of a fictional miracle child. It was as if people did not realise there was important _work_ to be done.

“Staying late?” Robert asked, clearly all set to leave.

“It’s only one o’clock,” Stannis muttered, glaring at his brother.

“Tonight is Christmas Eve! We’ve given everyone the afternoon off. Like we always do.” Robert chuckled like Father Christmas.

“Your assistant is still here,” Stannis pointed out, glancing significantly at Sansa’s desk.

“She’s just finishing a bit of filing. I’m sure she’ll leave soon. You should, too. Don’t you have those dinner plans with Shireen?” Robert waved his hand vaguely.

“No. I have plans to meet my daughter for lunch tomorrow.”

Robert frowned. “Then what are you doing tonight?”

Stannis pressed his lips together tightly. “Nothing. Weren’t you leaving?”

With an exasperated sigh, Robert shook his head. “I’m leaving, I’m leaving. Don’t work too hard.”

His office felt unnaturally silent once Robert was gone. A glass wall separated it from the assistants’ desks outside, so he could not even hear the sound of pages rustling beneath Sansa’s fingers. Renly had - unsurprisingly - not bothered to show up today, and neither had his assistant. Stannis didn’t have an assistant. He’d fired the first four within days of them being hired, and after that Robert had stopped letting him hire new ones. It was fine. Assistants only really got in the way. If Stannis needed help with anything, Davos was usually there to lend a hand. And Stannis was perfectly capable of getting his own damn coffee.

Not that he drank much coffee.

Stannis rubbed his eyes and sighed. Thinking of coffee made him wish he had a cup. He hadn’t slept well for the past few nights, and the memo he was trying to read had been written by someone who barely had a tenuous grip on the English language.

A glassy knock on the door distracted Stannis from glaring at the document on his screen.

Sansa was standing on the other side with a steaming cup in each hand. He waved her inside, wondering how she had managed to knock with both hands occupied.

“I was just getting some coffee and it looked like you might want some,” Sansa said, giving him a gentle smile.

“You don’t have to fetch me coffee. That’s not your job.”

Sansa’s smile didn’t waver. “I know it’s not.” She approached his desk and put the cup in her left hand down.

Stannis stared into the cup. The coffee was black, and looked strong.

“I can get you some milk and sugar if you want -”

“Black is fine. Don’t you have some filing to do?”

Sansa nodded and retreated towards the door. “I’ll be here for another hour, probably. Do you have anything you need filed?”

Stannis glanced at the pile of documents that were sitting on the corner of his desk. He knew that filing them would be more than an hour’s worth of work. He hesitated for a moment. _She offered._ He clenched his jaw and ignored the twisting sensation in the pit of his stomach.

“Yes. These need to be filed.” He nodded at the stack.

Sansa’s smile only vanished for a second. “Of course, sir.” She picked up the neat pile of documents and left without another word.

Stannis refused to follow her with his eyes. Instead he picked up the coffee she had brought him and focused on his screen.

The coffee was delicious: strong and a little spicy. The coffee beans had clearly been expertly roasted.

His twisting feeling in his stomach intensified.

***

Stannis awoke with a start. Something wasn’t right. His bedroom felt unnaturally cold, and though he was used to sleeping in fits and bursts - waking up often to drink some water or go to the bathroom - he was not used to waking up and feeling quite this… ill at ease.

He sat up, his heart pounding uncomfortably and the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

“You’re awake, then?”

Stannis had to use all his powers of self-control to keep from crying out. There was a man in his bedroom. A stranger. Stannis could see the outline of his form near the door, but he was too far away from the faint light making its way in through the window for Stannis to be able to identify him.

“Who are you? What do you want?” he asked, proud of how steady his voice sounded. “The police will be here within moments, so you had better not try anything.”

_How the hell had this person managed to get past a locked gate, a locked door, and the security system?_

The man came closer to the window. The curtains were not fully drawn, and the streetlights outside illuminated the man’s face.

Stannis drew in a sharp breath. _No. He’s dead. This can’t be happening._

“Uncle?” he whispered, staring at his Uncle Lomas’ unmistakable features.

“The police will not be coming, dear boy. It is you who will be coming along with me. I have things to show you.”

“What?” Stannis shook his head, hoping that the ghost in front of him would somehow be persuaded to disappear.

Uncle Lomas walked all the way up to the bed and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. “This will only take a moment.”

Stannis squeezed his eyes shut, feeling as if the blood in his veins had suddenly frozen solid. When he opened his eyes he was no longer in bed.

He was standing beside Uncle Lomas in a brightly lit room that was richly furnished and full of people in eveningwear. Stannis looked down at himself, suddenly self-conscious about being there in his pyjamas. 

“They can’t see you,” Uncle Lomas said. “You’re here to observe.”

Stannis glared at his uncle. “What am I supposed to observe?”

Uncle Lomas said nothing. He merely pointed. Stannis followed his finger with his eyes and almost stopped breathing.

_That’s me. And Robert._

The memories flooded back, filling Stannis’ chest with an ache he hadn’t felt in years. This was that party his father had taken him and Robert to; the party where they had seen the president. Well, they had thought he was the president. It had actually been the vice president, but Robert and Stannis had been too young to tell the difference. Father had asked Robert to watch out for Stannis, and he actually _had._ Robert had stayed by Stannis’ side the whole night, making sure he hadn’t got lost or overwhelmed among the adults.

“Why are you showing me this?” Stannis muttered, still struggling to breathe around the ache in his chest.

Uncle Lomas said nothing. Instead he put his hand on Stannis’ shoulder again. The same freezing sensation from before flooded Stannis’ bloodstream. He flinched.

This time they were in Storm’s End. Stannis could see himself, Robert, and Renly. They were all dressed in black; even Renly, who was barely a toddler.

_Mother and Father’s funeral._

Stannis remembered this moment, too. The funeral had finished, and the three boys had stolen away to be alone. Alone with their grief.

Robert had hugged them both, and Renly had been unusually quiet and solemn. Robert had not teased Stannis about crying. He had just held him that much more tightly for those brief seconds of contact.

The next time Uncle Lomas placed his hand on Stannis’ shoulder, he didn’t flinch.

This time it was just Stannis and Renly. They were both older, though Renly was still a child.

“Why do we have to go?” Renly’s voice was small, but angry and confused.

“There isn’t enough money to keep this place. We have to move to the house in King’s Landing. Didn’t Robert explain it?”

“This is your fault! Your fault! I want Robert.”

Stannis watched his younger self frown and clench his hands into fists. “Robert is busy with the lawyers. He’s trying to save the company.”

“I don’t care!” Renly wailed. “I want to stay here!”

“I want to stay here, too.”

“No you don’t! You don’t care! You’re leaving to go to school! Cressen told me!”

“I have to go to school so that I can learn how to run a business. I have to help Robert save the company. If we can save the company we can get Storm’s End back someday.”

“Do you promise?” Renly asked, no longer sounding angry. Instead there was something vulnerable in his voice. Something trusting.

“I will do my best.”

Stannis looked away from the scene, a bitter taste in his mouth. He had helped Robert save the company, but he had never managed to buy Storm’s End back. The people who had bought the manor refused to sell.

The cold feeling washed over him again.

Stannis blinked. After being in sunlit rooms, the darkness of his bedroom seemed all-consuming.

“Why did you show me those things?” he asked, realising when his eyes finally adjusted that Uncle Lomas was still with him.

“Why do you think?” Uncle Lomas said, raising a brow.

Stannis opened his mouth to answer, only to stop himself before he started. 

Uncle Lomas had vanished.

Feeling disoriented and completely at a loss, Stannis wondered whether he should call Emergency Services. Was he having an acute mental breakdown? Had he just hallucinated?

“You’re not going mad.”

Stannis whirled around, his heart pounding, and sweat springing up all over his body. He knew that voice.

“ _Ned?_ ”

Ned Stark nodded, a solemn expression on his long face.

Stannis felt it would be redundant to point out that Ned was dead. Uncle Lomas was dead, too. That hadn’t stopped him from appearing.

“I suppose you’re here to help me hallucinate some more?” Stannis asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest and scowling.

Ned nodded again. “Follow me.”

Stannis had only taken one step when his bedroom seemed to melt in front of his eyes. In its place was a lively pub, full of young adults. Stannis spotted his daughter almost immediately.

“So you’re actually from here? How come you’re not spending the night with your parents then?” a brunette girl with a curious expression was asking her.

Shireen shrugged. “My parents are divorced.”

“Does that mean you can’t stay with either one of them?” The brunette sounded bemused.

“No. But my mother joined a cult a couple of years ago. I haven’t seen her since.”

“Bummer,” the girl said, taking a sip of her beer. “What about your dad?”

Shireen looked away from the girl and sighed. “I’ll see him tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” The brunette blinked owlishly. “Why not tonight? It’s Christmas Eve!”

“Dad isn’t a huge fan of the holidays. I told him I was going out with friends tonight and he sounded relieved to hear it. I’m pretty sure he’s working late, anyway. He’s always working.”

The brunette was shaking her head. “But where are you sleeping tonight?”

Shireen managed a weak smile, but her eyes were far away. “The dorms. And don’t look at me that way. It’s _fine._ I’m fine. People place too much emphasis on this stupid holiday. It’s just a night like any other, really.”

Stannis felt as if someone had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart.

“Take me away from here,” he said, his throat tightening up, making it hard to get the words out.

Ned looked at him for a long moment. Stannis swallowed, but did not avert his eyes.

The pub melted away. Stannis and Ned appeared to be in a tastefully decorated living room. It was smaller than his own, and clearly the living room of an apartment rather than a house, judging by the view outside the windows. Since Stannis could see the spire of a fairly well-known church, he was sure that he was in one of the more respectable neighbourhoods in King’s Landing.

“Who lives here?” He looked at Ned for answers, but Ned was not paying any attention to Stannis. Instead he was looking at the pictures on the mantelpiece. It was a nice mantelpiece, Stannis noted, though the fireplace wasn’t real. The pictures mostly seemed to show redheaded people.

 _Sansa,_ Stannis realised. _They’re pictures of Sansa and her siblings._

Ned lingered by a picture of her, touching it briefly.

“I know, I know. But I can’t make it tonight. I had to stay at work until five to finish Mr. Baratheon’s filing, and I’m just… I’m just not in the mood, okay?”

Sansa Stark had wandered into the living room, her shoulder raised to hold her phone to her ear, a pint of Häagen-Dazs in one hand, a spoon in the other.

“No, Robert left the office right after lunch. He’d never ask me to stay late,” Sansa went on as she collapsed onto the couch, curling up like a cat. She placed the phone on the coffee table and put it on speaker, presumably so that she would be able to eat her ice cream and talk at the same time.

A slightly tinny voice erupted from the phone’s speaker. Stannis recognised it as belonging to Margaery Tyrell. “Oh my gods, was it Renly, then? I’ll kill him. He said he didn’t have any work to do today! If he was able to take the day off by foisting his work off on you, I swear -”

“No, no,” Sansa said, cutting Margaery off. “It wasn’t like that. Stannis was working late and I asked him if he needed any filing done. It was my own fault.”

The uncomfortable twisting sensation Stannis had felt in the pit of his stomach at the office returned. It felt even worse now.

“Seriously, Sansa. ‘It was my own fault’?! Are you on glue? It’s Christmas! This was _not_ your fault. Only Stannis is socially retarded enough to take you up on a polite offer like that and actually make you stay late. This is totally his fault, not yours.”

“Don’t use that word, Margaery. It’s really disrespectful.”

“What? Retarded? It’s not disrespectful if it’s true. I swear he has Asberger’s or something.”

Stannis bristled. How dare that trollop speak of him in such a way?

“Stop it.” Sansa’s tone was sharp. “You know how I feel about this.”

Stannis swallowed, and shifted from one foot to the other. Hot anger flowed through him, and the tight feeling in his stomach intensified further. _Why is she defending me?_

There was a loud sigh from the phone on the table. “Fine. I don’t understand how you can defend him, though. He’s such a… lobster.”

Sansa’s expression of disapproval cracked, and she let out a small giggle. “Lobster or not, he’s the one who’s keeping the company alive. I’d be out of a job within a few months if it weren’t for Stannis.”

Stannis’ anger drained away, leaving nothing but bitterness behind. _Her job. She just cares about her job._

“That’s not how Renly tells it.”

Stannis snorted. _Of course that’s not how he tells it._

“Renly is nice, but he really doesn’t contribute much,” Sansa said, licking some ice cream off the side of the carton before it had a chance to drip down and stain her clothes. She was still wearing her clothes from the office, though she had unbuttoned her shirt part of the way and taken her blazer off. Stannis could see the outline of her bra through the crisp white shirt, and a bit of lace peeking out where her buttons were undone.

Ned elbowed Stannis in the ribs in a way that hurt surprisingly much considering the fact that Ned was dead. Stannis hurriedly looked away from Sansa’s cleavage, feeling his face redden. He made himself focus on what the two women were saying.

“I’m not saying Renly does _nothing_ ,” Sansa said, gesturing with her spoon, “it’s just… compared with everything Stannis does it kind of _seems_ like nothing.”

Stannis’ heart sped up. He stared at Sansa’s face, wondering if this was really how she felt.

“Ugh. I still don’t get why you’re defending him. So he’s a workaholic? Big deal. He still shouldn’t have made you do that filing today. I’m sure it could have waited.”

“I - I don’t know. He hardly ever asks me to do anything. And I didn’t want to think of him staying even later than necessary just to do some filing.”

“Riiight,” Margaery sounded very sceptical. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

Sansa put a huge spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. “Mmmhmm.”

“You’re such a bad liar.”

Sansa pulled the spoon out and glared at the phone in outrage. “How was I lying? I wasn’t!”

“You just want to fuck him, don’t you?” Margaery sounded very pleased with herself.

Stannis stood very still and tried not to breathe. Looking at Ned was out of the question.

“Margaery!” Sansa exclaimed, her face reddening in a very becoming way. “He is my boss!”

Margaery snorted. “No he’s not. Robert is your boss.”

“Well, Stannis is my boss too, sort of. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to sleep with him, okay? I just… I respect him. And he seems… sad.”

“Oh, _honey._ ”

“ _What?_ ” Sansa put her ice cream down and crossed her arms defensively. “Can’t I feel sorry for the guy? I mean his wife left him to join a cult. He barely speaks to his daughter. He has like… one friend. One! And his brothers treat him like garbage.”

“He’s never going to notice you, Sansa,” Margaery said, sighing loudly. “I wish you’d just let me fix you up with Willas already. I know Joffrey did a number on you, but you need to get back out there! Fixating on Stannis Baratheon is a surefire way of never getting laid again. I mean, he’s probably asexual.”

“He has a daughter!”

“There are test tubes for that. Honestly, have you seen Selyse? Even a man with a healthy sexual appetite would have trouble getting it up for that mustache.”

Stannis wished Ned would make this scene melt away. Or at least let him disappear into a hole in the ground.

“Please drop this, okay? I am not obsessed with Stannis.”

“Prove it. Let me fix you up with Willas.”

Sansa bit her lip and looked out the window. Her face was still a little redder than it usually was, and her arms had gone from being crossed in front of her chest to being wrapped around her middle in a sort of hug.

“Come on,” Margaery said, filling the silence. “I know you’ve lost pretty much your entire family in the course of two years, and you know I am deeply sorry for all your losses, but you don’t have to be alone. Your can be a part of my family, Sansa. I could - I could be like your sister.”

Stannis had never heard any Tyrell speak so gently. So _sincerely._

Sansa shifted on the couch and looked at the phone, arms still wrapped tightly around her own body. “I - yeah. Maybe.”

“You won’t regret it. I swear you won’t. Willas is so right for you, I just know you’ll love him.”

The last thing Stannis saw before the scene melted away, was Sansa reaching for her ice cream with a sad look in her eyes.

Stannis recognised the new scene at once. Ned had taken him to Robert’s house. To Robert’s bedroom. He hadn’t been here very often, but the the decor of the house was quite distinctive. Antlers. Antlers everywhere.

“Bugger it,” Robert was muttering as he disentangled himself from his satin bedsheets. A woman with dark hair appeared to be sleeping in his bed, and Stannis did not close his eyes quickly enough to keep from seeing that Robert was naked.

Stannis shot Ned a pained look. “Do we really need to see this?”

Ned just glared.

With a sigh, Stannis followed Robert from the bedroom to the study and watched his brother sit his bare arse on the leather desk chair, pull open a drawer, and fish out a bottle of whiskey.

Stannis wondered for a moment why Robert kept the bottle in the drawer. There was a perfectly stocked vintage bar cart in the room. But he quickly decided that he didn’t care. It was Robert’s own business where he chose to keep his bottles of whiskey. 

Stannis scowled when he saw Robert start to chug the amber liquid straight from the bottle. “Do I really need to stand here and watch this?” he muttered, glowering at Ned.

Ned crossed his arms and continued to glare as before.

Stannis rolled his eyes.

After drinking what seemed like a quarter of the bottle in one go, Robert put the bottle down and started to _cry._ His shoulders shaking, and his hands covering his face.

“Lyanna…” he moaned in between his unmanly sniffles. “ _Why?_ ”

Stannis clenched his jaw. He had always known that Robert had never quite got past Lyanna Stark’s death; Cersei had complained about it often enough before the divorce. But Stannis hadn’t realised that it was quite as bad as this.

Stannis wanted to feel exasperated with his brother for not letting _go,_ but the feelings churning in his gut and pinching at his heart were nothing like exasperation. The memories Uncle Lomas had shown Stannis were still too fresh in Stannis’ mind.

Robert had always been so strong when Stannis had been growing up. And even though they hadn’t managed to get along most of the time, Robert had been there for Stannis when it counted. Seeing him look so broken felt… wrong.

_Damn it, Robert._

Stannis closed his eyes against the faint burning sensation that was making his eyeballs itch.

Thankfully the scene had melted away by the time Stannis opened them.

“What’s this?” Loras Tyrell was holding a carefully wrapped gift.

“Present for Robert,” Renly said with a shrug. He was sitting on a comfortable-looking sofa with a glass of red wine in one hand. There was a magnificently decorated Christmas tree not far from where Renly was sitting, and the soft lights that covered the branches twinkled merrily.

“I can see that. But where’s the present for the lobster?” Loras said, looking at the pile beneath the tree with a frown.

“Stannis never gets me a gift. Why should I get him one?” Renly took a large sip of wine and looked away from Loras.

“Seems odd to give Robert a gift and then not get Stannis anything,” Loras said, placing the gift back down and sitting beside Renly.

“Stannis doesn’t care whether I’m alive or dead, okay? I’m not giving him a gift. End of discussion.”

Loras showed Renly his palms in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, okay, it’s not like I love the guy. I’m just worried about you.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with me. You have no reason to worry.” Renly took another large sip of wine.

“I didn’t mean to imply that there’s anything wrong with you,” Loras said gently, reaching to stroke Renly’s cheek. “I just meant… I just… I want you to be happy.”

Renly looked at Robert’s gift for a moment, a frown tugging at his lips. “I am happy,” he whispered, tearing his eyes away from the present and smiling at Loras. “I have you, don’t I?”

“Always,” said Loras, kissing Renly soundly.

Stannis looked away. He felt like such an intimate moment should not be intruded upon.

“It’s time to go back,” Ned said, moving closer. As soon as he spoke, the world melted away once again, and Stannis and Ned appeared back in Stannis’ bedroom.

“Why is this happening to me?” Stannis asked, speaking quickly in case Ned was about to pull the same disappearing act his Uncle Lomas had.

Ned shook his head. “Only you can answer that question.”

Stannis watched Robert’s chosen brother vanish, and wondered whether Ned had ever visited Robert like this. _Robert would like that,_ Stannis knew, thinking about the countless occasions Robert had regaled him with stories of childhood adventures with Ned. Not to mention all the stories Stannis had heard of Robert’s college adventures with Ned, and of course the stories of how Ned and Robert would have been true brothers if only Lyanna had lived to marry him.

_Bloody Ned._

Honestly, had the man really needed to take Stannis to Sansa’s apartment? Stannis’ stomach was still squirming due to that particular trip. It would not have been as uncomfortable if anyone else - literally anyone - had been there with him. Stannis felt himself redden again as he thought about the way Ned had elbowed him for staring at Sansa’s breasts. Stannis didn’t blame him. He would have done the same thing if he had noticed some cretin staring at Shireen like that.

 _Why was I staring at her breasts in the first place?_ he wondered, scrubbing his face with his hands.

Maybe it was just the fact that he had been seeing her in a different light. With her customary blazer off she had seemed more... relaxed. 

Stannis dropped his hands, tugging at the collar of his T-shirt. His skin felt strangely hot. 

And then Margaery Tyrell had been saying all those things about Sansa wanting to -

“STANNIS BARATHEON.”

Stannis jumped. The voice that has spoken wasn’t exactly _loud_ , but it was hollow and peculiar, and rather like two concrete blocks being rubbed together. He looked around to see a black-clad, hooded figure: tall and unnaturally thin. He couldn’t see the figure’s face due to the hood.

“Who are you?” Stannis asked, feeling nervous for the first time since Uncle Lomas had appeared.

“NEVER MIND THAT. JUST COME ALONG.”

Swallowing, Stannis allowed the figure to grasp his wrist and _pull._ For a second Stannis felt as if he were on fire. He was about to cry out in shock, but then the sensation was gone.

“Where are we?” Stannis asked. The black-clad figure made no answer. It simply pointed.

A beautiful woman with red hair was standing over a fresh grave. A distinguished looking old gentleman was sitting in a wheelchair a little way away. No one else was within sight. It wasn’t snowing, and Stannis couldn’t feel the temperature, but he could tell that it was winter. There were no leaves on the trees, and there were clouds of steam issuing from both the woman’s mouth and the man in the wheelchair. They were both dressed as if it were freezing. The sun was shining in that harsh, glaring way it only ever managed to shine in winter.

Stannis walked over to the woman. The closer he got, the tighter his chest felt.

 _Catelyn Stark?_ he wondered, examining the woman’s face. It looked like her. But Catelyn was as dead as her husband. Was Stannis in the past again?

He walked even closer, stopping only when he was almost shoulder to shoulder with the woman. She was weeping.

_Sansa?_

Could it be? Could Stannis be in the future instead?

But then… _whose grave is this?_

A feeling of dread stole over him. “Is that… ?” he asked hoarsely, looking between the grave and the black-clad figure.

“YOUR GRAVE? YES.”

Stannis swallowed. Could this really be his funeral? Where were all the people? Robert was most likely long gone, but Davos? Shireen? Renly? Why was Sansa the only one? And who was that man in the wheelchair?

“Sansa,” the man in the wheelchair said. “Shall we go?”

Sansa pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. “One more minute, Willas. Please.”

Willas Tyrell nodded. Stannis had never met the man, but he could recognise the Tyrell features now that he knew what to look for. He didn’t spend much time looking at Willas, however. Sansa was closer, and more interesting.

She was wearing a thick coat that nonetheless emphasised the fact that she was still a slender woman with a regal bearing. Her hair was twisted into a sleek updo that looked both effortless and unnaturally perfect. Her face was barely starting to show the tell-tale signs of mature age.

“I’m sorry,” Sansa whispered, speaking so quietly that Stannis doubted that Willas would be able to hear. She was looking at the coffin in the open grave. “I hope you’re at rest now. I hope your burdens have been lifted.” She knelt down and picked up a fistful of earth, dropping it over the coffin’s lid. Once she had straightened back up she took a shuddering breath, squared her shoulders, and put her handkerchief away.

Feeling strangely hollow, Stannis followed her when she walked over to Willas. He watched as she fussed over the blanket that covered his knees.

“Have you said your goodbyes, then?” Willas asked when Sansa began to push the chair along the graveyard’s path.

“Yes.” There was a far off look in Sansa’s eyes.

“I’m surprised you wanted to come. I didn’t think you knew him that well.”

Sansa clenched her jaw noticeably, and her face flushed with anger. “I’m surprised Renly and Loras aren’t here. Renly is his _brother._ ”

“You know they’ve never had a good relationship,” Willas said, his voice soothing. “Still, I’m sure he would have come if he had known Shireen wouldn’t make it.”

Stannis’ heart began to race. _Why couldn’t Shireen make it? What’s happened to her?_

“He knows,” Sansa said, her voice clipped. “If we know Shireen chose to stay with Davos at the hospital, he knows. He’s just being awful.”

Stannis ran a hand through what was left of his hair. Knowing that Davos was in hospital was frightening, but it was a small comfort to know that Shireen might have a legitimate reason to give his funeral a miss. And they were both alive. Alive, but Davos was possibly sick or recovering from some injury. A knot of worry appeared in his stomach, making it harder to breathe easily.

“Hey now. Do you honestly think Stannis would have come to Renly’s funeral if the shoe was on the other foot?”

“I don’t know,” Sansa said, closing her eyes briefly. “But I’d like to think he would have.”

 _Of course I will go to Renly’s funeral if I outlive him. He’s my little brother._ Stannis reached out to touch Sansa’s shoulder, wanting to stop her, wanting to _tell her,_ but somehow he was having trouble keeping up with her sedate walking pace.

Fire seared Stannis’ skin again, and this time he did cry out.

The black-clad figure had taken him to a hospital room.

 _Davos,_ was Stannis’ first thought. He rushed to his bedside, feeling his insides constrict at the sight of his friend’s emaciated body. He looked old, and very ill.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the funeral, darling?” Marya asked, looking terribly old herself. For a second Stannis thought she was talking to him, but then he realised that she was talking to the woman on the other side of the bed. The woman had her back to him, looking out the window rather than at Davos. When she turned around to answer Marya, it was as if time stopped.

_Shireen._

His daughter was a striking woman. She had grown into her face somehow… taken command of it. She was dressed very tastefully, her hair was neatly styled, and there were touches of makeup on her face that drew attention to her eyes. But it wasn’t the clothes or the hair or the makeup one really noticed -- it was the overall effect. The way she carried herself… the way she lifted her chin as she spoke.

“I’m sure, Marya. Thank you. You and Davos have always been there for me. I want to be here for you in return.”

“But… it’s your _father._ ”

“He’s gone. He won’t care whether I’m there to watch his remains be lowered into the ground. Anyway, Davos has always been more of a father to me than Stannis ever was.”

Stannis winced. It seemed unnatural for his daughter to refer to him by name rather than as ‘Father’ or ‘Dad’.

“You know he loved you,” Marya said, approaching Shireen to take her hand. “He was never good at showing it, but I hope you know that he did love you. Very much.”

Stannis’ eyes were burning again, and a sizable lump seemed to have taken up residence in his throat.

“Did he?” Shireen looked out the window again, her eyes dry. “All he talked about these last few weeks was Storm’s End. I think the only thing he ever really loved was that place.”

 _No,_ he thought, shaking his head violently. He looked toward the black-clad figure. “No! Take me away from here!”

The figure did nothing. Said nothing.

Stannis marched over to it and tried to grab ahold of its cloak. He tried to pull the material away from the figure to expose it, but the more he pulled, the more material there seemed to be. “Make this stop!” Stannis commanded, not caring that he sounded deranged. “Make it stop now!” He was lying down now, and covered in sweat. The hospital floor was softer than he expected, but he couldn’t focus on that. He struggled to free himself of the material that was tangled around him, and continued to demand his release.

Finally, he was free.

Breathing heavily, he blinked and looked around. The black-clad figure was gone. He was in his own bed - not at any hospital - and the material he had been struggling with was on the floor.

 _My own sheets,_ he realised, furrowing his brow.

Had it all been a dream?

A sound that was half scoff, half sob, escaped his throat. He closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his palms over the eyelids, trying to make sense of everything he had seen.

 _If it was a dream, it was the most vivid dream I have ever had,_ he thought. Usually he couldn’t hold onto the details of his dreams. They slipped away as soon as he regained consciousness, and he was only left with shadows and vague feelings. This dream - if it had been a dream - felt as if it had _happened._

Stannis rolled to his side and reached for his phone, wanting to know what time it was. Judging by the grey light outside, the sun was probably about to rise. A dull throb distracted him before he found the phone. It felt like a recently acquired bruise, and Stannis lifted his T-shirt to take a look. A fresh bruise greeted his eyes, plain as day in the gloomy light. It was right between two ribs -- right where Ned Stark had jabbed him with his elbow.

Feeling suddenly very cold, Stannis dropped his shirt. He couldn’t make himself do anything else. It was as if his muscles had gone on strike, numbing him.

_I can’t have a bruise there. It wasn’t real. Ned Stark is **dead.**_

“Maybe I got bruised yesterday...” he muttered, trying to think about the matter like a logical human being. It was possible that he hadn’t noticed bumping into someone.

The bruise throbbed angrily.

Stannis took a deep breath and reached for his phone again; successfully this time. It was a little before seven AM, and he had no missed calls or messages.

He stared at the screen for a long moment, thinking. The visions Uncle Lomas had showed him had all been real. His own memories of the events hadn’t all been as clear, but nothing he had seen in the ‘dream’ had contradicted them. The things Ned had showed him however… Stannis had no idea if those visions were real. Had his brother really been sobbing into a bottle of whiskey? Had his daughter spent the evening at some pub? Did Renly really think that Stannis didn’t care whether he lived or died? Did Margaery Tyrell really think that Sansa Stark wanted to sleep with him?

Stannis felt his face heat up a little, but he ignored it.

_I have to find out whether it was real. I have to know._

Because if what Ned had showed him was real… 

Stannis closed his eyes and shuddered, the memory of his pitiful funeral rising to the surface of his mind. The hospital room. Shireen calling him _Stannis._

Quickly, Stannis got to his feet. He needed to get dressed. There was so much he had to do.

***

Stannis wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or worried. He had been knocking on Shireen’s dorm room door for two minutes, and had yet to notice any sign that there might be a living person on the other side. On one hand, he had no idea where else his daughter might be, and it was frightening to think that something might have happened to her, but on the other, it was a relief to think that his dream might have been wrong after all.

Sighing, Stannis pulled out his phone and did what he always did when he needed help: he called Davos.

“Stannis? Is that you?” Davos’ voice sounded both curious and a little worried.

“I’m not sure,” Stannis said, clenching his jaw as he tried to think of what to say. He didn’t want Davos to worry, but he supposed it was rather out of the ordinary for him to call before eight AM on Christmas morning. And if Shireen was missing, there certainly was cause for worry...

“What do you mean?”

“I - I stopped by Shireen’s dorm. She’s not answering her door.”

Davos let out a loud breath. “Oh, that’s all right. She’s here with Marya and the boys. I called her last night to make sure she’d be coming to Christmas lunch, and she asked if she could stay over. She’s been a big help with the boys this morning. They were up at six.” Davos paused, and Stannis heard the sound of children playing in the background. “You’re coming to lunch too, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Stannis said, nodding once before realising that Davos wouldn’t be able to see. His heart was thudding painfully in his chest. “I’ll see you later.”

Stannis poked at his phone to end the call, frowning deeply. He had been hoping to speak to Shireen. Hoping to find a definitive answer to whether his dream had been real.

_I’ll just have to wait until lunch._

He started to pace up and down the empty corridor, his hands curled into fists. Impatience clawed at his insides; impatience and uncertainty.

Should he go to Robert’s house? Or Renly’s?

Stannis tried to picture himself asking Robert whether he’d spent the night sitting naked at his desk and sobbing. He grimaced and shook his head to clear it. Renly might be easier, but Stannis really didn’t know whether he’d be able to get any straight answers from him. Renly never took anything seriously.

That only left Sansa.

His mouth drying, Stannis thought about the conversation he had overheard, and the way Sansa had looked without her blazer on. The bruise between his ribs began to throb again, and he swallowed.

_Will she really marry Willas Tyrell? Will she really be the only person who comes to my funeral?_

Stannis stopped pacing and shoved both his hands into his coat pockets.

_I can’t stay here._

***

Sansa stirred her tea and stared out the window, thinking about the last good Christmas she could remember.

Rickon had woken everyone at the crack of dawn, demanding that they come join him by the tree to open presents. Sansa had started to want to sleep in at that point, and she could still remember how she had wanted to strangle her little brother. 

Now she would give anything to have him wake her up one more time.

She sipped her tea, wincing as it burnt her tongue.

 _I’m sorry, Rickon,_ she thought, pushing her tea away, _I hope there are lots of presents wherever you are now._

She could feel tears building up, and closed her eyes to try to stop them from falling. A knock at the door startled her however, causing her eyes to fly back open.

She sat frozen, listening. Had she imagined it? Who on earth could be calling at this hour on Christmas morning?

There was another knock.

Sansa rose to her feet, looking down at herself and biting her lip. She was barely decent. She was wearing the nightgown she had worn on Christmas when her family was still alive, and since she had grown a few inches since, it was rather too short for company.

“I’m coming!” she shouted, hoping to prevent her caller from knocking a third time. Hurriedly, she went to her bedroom and found a white silk robe. Her mother’s. She belted it on while she walked to the foyer, furrowing her brow.

She had to work hard not to let her jaw drop to the floor when she opened the door to find Stannis Baratheon on the other side.

“Mr. Baratheon,” she said, not quite able to disguise her tone of surprise. “What - what brings you here?”

He looked terrible. Paler than usual, with dark circles around his eyes. His hair wasn’t neatly combed like it usually was, either, and his clothes appeared to have been put on in a rush. There was something off about his expression, too. Instead of his customary scowl there was something… wild... about his look. Almost a little _crazed._

“I - I’m here because… may I come inside?” Stannis ran his hand through his hair and seemed to be doing his best not to look at her.

“Of course.” She stood aside and let him in. “Would you like some tea? I just made a pot.”

“No - no... “ Stannis said, his face growing paler as she led him to her living room. He was staring around as if his worst nightmare had just come to life in front of his eyes. When his eyes came to rest on an empty container of Häagen-Dazs that she had yet to put away, his knees seemed to buckle, and he collapsed into an armchair.

“Mr. Baratheon!” she exclaimed, truly worried now. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t know,” he muttered, burying his face in his hands.

“I’ll get you some tea,” Sansa said, deciding to ignore the fact that he’d declined her earlier offer. He clearly needed tea, if not something stronger.

Once they each had a cup warming their hands, and once Sansa had taken a seat on the sofa opposite the chair Stannis had chosen, Sansa resumed her study of Stannis’ face. He really did not look well at all.

“Did you talk to Margaery Tyrell last night?” Stannis suddenly asked, his eyes snapping up to bore into hers. Sansa felt almost paralysed by his gaze, and could not think to do anything but answer him honestly.

“Yes.”

Stannis looked away and Sansa started to breathe again. 

Her relief was short-lived however. She frowned, trying to make sense of the situation. Why did Stannis want to know whether she had spoken to Margaery? Had she said something to him?

 _Oh, gods. Did she tell him her insane theory about how I apparently want to jump his bones?_ Sansa put her cup on the coffee table and wrapped her arms around herself, intensely aware of how flimsily she was dressed.

“Did - did Miss Tyrell by any chance ask to set you up with her brother?” Stannis asked, still not looking at her.

“How do you know that?” Sansa asked, trying her hardest to mind her tone. Her mother had raised her to be polite to callers, and while Stannis was freaking her out, he hadn’t exactly done anything to warrant her being _rude._

Stannis swallowed. “I can’t tell you that.”

“Did she tell you? Is that it?” Sansa had to know. If Margaery was betraying her confidence like that… Sansa wasn’t sure what she’d do.

Stannis shook his head. He was still holding his cup of tea, but he had yet to take a sip.

They were silent for a long, uncomfortable stretch of time.

“Why are you here?” Sansa eventually asked.

Stannis looked at her again, and though his eyes were less piercing than they had been before, Sansa was just as transfixed by them. She had often noticed that he had particularly arresting eyes - such a unique shade of blue - and had thought to herself more than once that they were his best feature. And she may also have wondered on more than one occasion what he looked like underneath his starched shirts and properly tied ties, but that certainly did not mean she wanted to sleep with him. _Really._ Margaery was just… off her meds.

“You’ll think I’ve gone mad if I tell you,” Stannis said, still looking straight at her.

Sansa leaned forward. “Try me.”

“I - I…” Stannis paused, swallowing noticeably. He looked down at his tea. “I wanted to apologise.”

Sansa’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

“Yes. I shouldn’t have asked you to do all that filing yesterday. It was… inconsiderate.”

Unable to help herself, Sansa let out a nervous laugh. “What? No… it was fine. Really. I didn’t have anything better to do. And it’s my job.”

Stannis frowned at his tea. “You were meant to spend time with Miss Tyrell, weren’t you?”

 _How does he know that?_ “Well… she had invited me to a party, yes. But I didn’t really want to go.”

“Oh,” he said, still frowning.

Sansa shook her head and reached for her tea. It was no longer too hot, and she took a few fortifying sips. “So… apology accepted,” she said, trying to smile. “And just so you know, I don’t think it’s crazy of you to want to apologise. I mean… your timing is a bit odd, but not… not _crazy._ ”

_Stop babbling, Sansa._

“Thank you,” Stannis said. He was sitting very stiffly, but he did finally take a sip of his tea. “I’m sorry for what happened to your family.”

Sansa took a deep breath. “Me too.”

“Robert has been… helping you, hasn’t he?” Stannis asked, shifting in his seat.

“He has.” She forced a smile. “He’s been great. Really.”

“And…” Stannis grimaced, “Joffrey’s been leaving you alone?”

Sansa nodded, a wave of nausea passing through her at the mere sound of his name. “I haven’t seen or heard from him since he moved away with his mother.”

“Good.”

They drank their tea in silence.

“Do you like him?” Stannis asked at length, setting his cup down on the coffee table.

“Joffrey?” Sansa asked, feeling another wave of nausea swell within her.

“No!” Stannis looked horrified. “I meant Willas Tyrell.”

Sansa’s face grew very warm, and she crossed her legs at the knee, not caring that it wasn’t ladylike. “I… don’t really know. I’ve never met him properly.”

“Well, I hope you’re not letting Miss Tyrell force you to do anything you’re not ready to do,” Stannis said, his voice clipped and his jaw clenched tight.

More blood rushed to Sansa’s face. “Why does it matter to you?”

Stannis’ eyes widened a little, and he suddenly got to his feet. “I should go.”

Sansa stood up too. “No, please.” She frowned. “Tell me why it matters.”

He drew in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. “I just don’t want to you to feel pressured. I - I can’t help but feel somewhat responsible for what happened between you and my nephew. I knew what he was and I never warned you to stay away.”

“What Joffrey did was not your fault. It was no one’s fault but his.” It had taken Sansa several months of therapy to reach the point of being able to say that and believe it.

“Still,” Stannis said, sidestepping the coffee table to reach her. “I could have warned you.”

“I didn’t know you,” Sansa said, crossing her arms and trying not to shiver. “I doubt I would have listened to anything you might have said.”

“I could have made you listen,” Stannis said, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing. “I should have.”

“It’s in the past,” she whispered, her heart beating much too fast. Stannis’ hand felt incredibly warm, and his eyes were blazing.

For the longest time they stood still as statues, staring at each other. The only movement was the movement of their chests rising and falling with each breath.

Finally, two things happened almost in unison: Stannis’ thumb moved where he was gripping her shoulder, stroking her through the silk of her robe. And Sansa’s lips parted - her breath hitching in her throat.

Without conscious thought, Sansa closed her eyes and tilted her head back, her heart still hammering. It was as clear an invitation as she could give, and later on she knew she would be absolutely _shocked_ at herself.

She knew Stannis had accepted the invitation almost before it should have been possible for her to know. She heard the sharp intake of breath, and she felt the air move as he lowered his head, coming closer.

Stannis’ lips touched hers in a kiss that was… not what Sansa had expected. It wasn’t demanding and harsh. It wasn’t uncontrolled and passionate. Instead, his lips brushed hers so lightly - so _carefully_ \- that Sansa wasn’t sure if it was really happening. She had peek at him through half-lidded eyes to make sure.

He pulled back when he saw her peeking, releasing her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said, taking a large step back and almost tripping over the coffee table.

“Why?” she asked, sounding oddly breathless to her own ears.

“This was… this was not what I came her to do,” he said, his face no longer the least bit pale.

“I don’t mind.” For the first time in a few days, she found a genuine smile make its way to her lips.

“You - what?” He was blinking very fast, looking endearingly baffled.

“It was a nice kiss,” she said, her smile widening as his face reddened further. Her heart would not stop pounding, and the sensible part of her was feeling positively _faint_. “Only a little short.”

“I should really go,” Stannis said, looking away from her and carefully navigating a path around the coffee table and towards the foyer.

Sansa followed him, her stomach full of butterflies.

He paused by the door, his hand on the handle. His face was still redder than she had ever seen it. She couldn’t stop smiling.

“Happy Christmas,” he said, clearing his throat.

Feeling bold and reckless, Sansa stepped up to him and initiated a kiss of her own. To make sure that he wouldn’t go anywhere she grabbed the lapels of his coat and pressed the length of her body close, enjoying the way the thick wool of his coat felt against the silk she was wearing. But mostly she enjoyed the way his lips felt. They were soft and surprisingly yielding. Stannis was such a rigid man that she had half expected him to make her use her tongue like a battering ram. Instead her tongue slid over his after meeting no resistance. He tasted of the tea they had been drinking, and of something that was wholly unique. Wholly _him._ He let her lead at first, but after a little while she felt his arms encircle her, and his tongue start to explore her mouth in return.

With a moan she tilted her head to give him more access, enjoying the thrill of being plundered. She loved how scratchy and rough his skin was compared to her own, and couldn’t help but imagine what it might feel like scraping against her neck, her breasts… her inner thighs. Thick, hot arousal moved through her blood, pooling low in her belly, and making her want to drag Stannis straight to bed. Reason and logic be damned.

They came apart, both breathing heavily.

“Happy Christmas,” she murmured, watching him take a shaky step towards the door.

He nodded and left, looking utterly flustered.

_Margaery is going to be impossible about this._

***

Stannis’ head was still reeling by the time he arrived at Davos’ house. The kiss Sansa had given him before sending him on his way was still sending shivers down his spine, and the arousal she had stirred was refusing to go away completely. At the same time, guilt was filling his stomach with rocks, and he kept seeing Ned’s face in his mind’s eye, glaring at him.

Trying to push all his thoughts aside, Stannis took a deep breath and knocked. He needed to speak to his daughter.

“Welcome!” Davos said as he opened the door, a happy smile on his face. But the smile became frozen almost as soon as Davos’ eyes met his. “What happened?” he asked, stepping out to the porch and leaning the door mostly shut behind him.

“What do you mean?” Stannis asked stiffly, crossing his arms.

“What do I mean?” Davos let out an incredulous laugh. “You call me this morning, sounding desperate to find Shireen, and now you show up an hour early, looking like you just saw one of Robert’s sex tapes.”

Stannis grimaced. “We agreed never to speak of those things.”

“Yes, yes,” Davos said, waving his hand as if to get rid of an irksome fly. “Now tell me what’s going on.”

Stannis sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I had a very strange dream last night.”

Davos furrowed his brow. “A dream?”

“A dream, a hallucination, I don’t know. All I know is that I saw Shireen spending Christmas Eve alone at some _pub,_ and then she refused to go to my funeral. And I also saw Sansa Stark talking to Margaery Tyrell, and I think I may have just prevented her from marrying Willas Tyrell.”

“Wait wait wait.” Davos closed his eyes and shook his head. “Your funeral? Are you dying?”

“No, not yet. That was in the future.”

Davos rubbed his face. “All right… and what’s this about Sansa Stark?”

Stannis wondered whether he should really be telling Davos all this, but it was hard to stop now that he had started. And it was the truth. “I kissed her.”

Davos dropped his hands and _stared._ “Was that - ah - was that in the dream…?”

“No, in the dream Margaery wanted to set Sansa up with her brother. But now that I’ve kissed her I think I’ve stopped that from happening. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Right,” Davos said, blinking furiously. “Anything else?”

“Yes. I also saw Robert crying into a bottle of whiskey, and Renly refuse to get me a Christmas present because he is convinced that I don’t care whether he lives or dies.”

“I - okay. That’s… okay.” Davos cleared his throat. “I mean, that’s not _okay_ , obviously -”

“You think I’ve gone mad.”

“No!” Davos shook his head so frantically that Stannis worried that he might give himself whiplash. “I think your subconscious has probably been picking up on some… issues… and that you’ve had a dream where you’ve tried to sort some of these issues out.”

Stannis frowned, crossing his arms. “Then how do you explain the fact that Sansa’s living room looked exactly the way it really does in my dream? Even though I saw her living room for the first time this morning!” 

Davos started blinking again. “Really?”

“Yes! And I’m - I’m concerned that if the dream got Sansa’s living room right, it also got the funeral right.” Stannis took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. “No one came, Davos. No one except Sansa Stark came to my funeral. You were in hospital, Robert was probably dead, Renly refused to go, and Shireen…”

_Shireen chose you over me._

“Stop,” Davos said. “Just stop. You’re not dying quite yet. There is plenty of time to mend bridges with your brothers and your daughter if that is what you want. Shireen’s inside if you want to start right now.”

Stannis nodded and started marching towards the door, full of restless energy and a strange sense of urgency.

Davos blocked his way, however. “But I think you should probably leave the dream out of anything you might wish to say to Shireen,” he said, his expression serious. “And… perhaps you shouldn’t say anything about the - er - _steps_ you’re taking to…” Davos paused and cleared his throat. “... secure a stepmother for her. Not today.”

Stannis’ eyes widened of their own accord. _Stepmother?_

Davos clapped him on the back before he had a chance to pull himself together. “Go. Talk to her.”

Stannis went.

***

Shireen liked spending time with Davos, Marya, and their boys. She always felt welcome at their house, and the living room was always so… warm. Loud. Full of love and people. Growing up as the only child of two individuals who seemed to despise each other, these were things that had always been missing from her home.

When she was little, Christmas morning was all about giving thanks to the Lord, prayer, and making sure that she didn’t let her mother see how desperately excited she was to open her gifts. She could barely remember her father being present at all. He’d stay in his study all through the prayers, and only emerge to watch her unwrap the gifts, and then to join them for lunch. A sensible lunch -- nothing extravagant. Certainly no hot chocolate or cookies.

Shireen smiled as Steffon ran past, clearly on a sugar high from all the unsensible things he had already eaten. There was colourful wrapping paper strewn all around, and the multicoloured fairy lights on the Christmas tree twinkled happily, blinking on and off at regular intervals. She could hear the rest of the boys laughing in the TV lounge next door, and the sounds of a lively computer game usually accompanied their laughter.

“Where’s my husband?” Marya asked, entering the living room with a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies. “These are his favourite, I’m sure he’d like one while they’re warm from the oven.”

“He went to answer the door a while ago,” Shireen said, closing the book she had been pretending to read. “Would you like me to go check - oh.”

Shireen’s father was standing in the Seaworth’s living room, looking as utterly out of place as a screwdriver in a loaf of bread. Aside from that, he also looked oddly unkempt. Shireen wasn’t used to seeing him look anything less than perfectly put together, so her first reaction was to worry.

“Is something wrong, Dad?”

Her father approached the sofa she was sitting on and sat down. “No. I just decided to arrive early for lunch.”

“Oh.”

There was an awkward silence between them, though the room certainly wasn’t quiet. Steffon was still on his sugar high, and now he had one cookie in his mouth, and one in each hand. He had not stopped running.

Marya put down her tray of cookies and grabbed her son, carrying him into the TV lounge and closing the door behind them in a clear attempt to give Shireen and her father some privacy.

The awkward silence stretched on.

“I want you to stay with me for the rest of the holiday,” her father suddenly said, fixing her with a piercing stare. “You’re always welcome to stay with me.”

“Oh,” she said again, unable to think of anything else. She blinked a few times, trying to come up with something better. “Er, all right.”

“I just wanted you to know that. I - I wasn’t sure if you did.”

Shireen nodded slowly. To be honest, she _hadn’t_ known. Her father was always so… distant. Reaching him always seemed like a process where she was required to hand in a written request for him to lower a drawbridge so that she’d be able to cross the moat that surrounded him.

“So… I can stay with you for the rest of the holidays?”

Stannis nodded. “Yes.” He frowned. “I still have quite a bit of work to do, but if you tell me your schedule I will figure out a way for us to spend some time together.”

Shireen suppressed a smile and tried not to get her hopes up. Leave it to her father to arrange family moments like he would a business meeting. Still, her heart fluttered. _He’s trying._ “I’d like that, Dad.”

Her father’s shoulders seemed to relax by a slight margin at that, and he cleared his throat in a way that was less awkward, more pleased with himself. “So… how were your exams?”

Shireen smiled and launched into an account of her fall semester. She felt like she knew where she stood when she talked about school with Father. Judging by the look on her his face, he felt tolerably comfortable too. They were on solid ground.

Davos came and sat down with them after a while, and with him there to help her dad along, Shireen managed to have the longest conversation she could ever remember having with him. They talked about books and past Christmases, old memories from her father’s college days with Davos, and a little bit about the tactics the two of them had employed when they’d been saving the Baratheon family company.

Some of the memories made her father do approximations of smiles.

It was _wonderful._

After lunch, her father asked if she wanted to stay for the afternoon or ride home with him. Feeling optimistic, she decided to opt for the latter. Davos and Marya would always be there for her, after all. An opportunity to spend time with Father seemed more precious.

Her father was quiet for the first few minutes of the drive, but eventually he spoke.

“What do you think your Uncle Renly would like for Christmas?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the road.

“Uncle Renly?” Shireen didn’t know what to think. She had never had much to do with her uncles. Robert had given her nice gifts when she had been growing up, but other than that he had not given her much attention. Renly had used to tease her about being an ugly duckling. For a while she had tried to convince herself it wasn’t mean-spirited, and that he meant to imply that she would eventually become a swan like in the story. She was fairly sure that had only been wishful thinking. “I don’t know, a gift card for a massage or something? Artisanal soap?”

“Where does one buy… artisanal soap?”

“On Christmas Day? Nowhere. Tomorrow? Maybe at the mall. They have these pop-up stands sometimes. You can usually find them at farmer’s markets, too.”

Her father hummed.

“Isn’t it a bit late to be thinking about Christmas shopping, though?” Shireen asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

“Perhaps.”

Shireen waited, hoping he’d be tempted to say more if she kept silent.

Eventually her patience was rewarded. “I am not very good at selecting… gifts.”

Shireen almost snorted. That was an understatement. Since she had started high school her father had simply deposited a certain sum into her bank account each Christmas and called it a day. Her mother had sometimes given her candles or prayer books or church-appropriate clothes, but that had stopped when she had joined the cult.

Shireen looked out the passenger window and tried to distract herself from the sudden ache in her heart.

“I don’t mind that you’re not good at gifts,” she said, still staring out the window.

“You don’t?”

“Gifts are just junk most of the time. I prefer just… this. Spending time with you.”

“Oh.”

The silence that followed was less awkward than Shireen had expected.

“Do you think I should... “ Her father grimaced, “... spend more time with Renly?”

“I don’t really know.” Shireen shrugged, feeling a little helpless. “I mean, he’s your brother. Shouldn’t you know whether you should spend more time with him?”

Her father sighed. “You’re right. Forget I asked.”

There was a long stretch of silence.

“What would you like to do today?” Father asked, glancing at her quickly before directing his attention back to the road.

“Usually I watch a couple of Christmas films,” Shireen said as casually as she could, her stomach squirming with a strange mixture of nerves and something else she couldn’t identify.

“What films?”

“I - I like _The Grinch_. And _It’s a Wonderful Life_ ” She held her breath.

“ _The Grinch_? Isn’t that a cartoon?” Her father was furrowing his brow deeply.

“There is a cartoon, yes, but I like the feature length film. It’s funny. And it has a happy ending.”

He seemed to consider her words. “Well, we should watch them both,” her said after a short while, sounding determined.

The squirming feeling in her stomach turned into a fluttery one, and she couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

Shireen relaxed into the car’s seat and let herself breathe all the way in, filling her lungs and expanding her belly. She let the air out slowly, enjoying the calm feeling that settled over her as she did. She was going to watch Christmas movies with her dad. On Christmas.

It felt like a miracle.

***

Robert always threw a party for Boxing Day and Stannis never went. This year he decided to change that.

He briefly considered asking Sansa to go as his date, but what they had was still so new and confusing that Stannis did not think it would be entirely advisable. They hadn’t even talked since that kiss by her front door. Shireen was happy to accompany him, though she had been surprised when he had started to talk about going. (“You want to go to Robert’s party? Like… physically go there? In person?”)

He was already starting to regret it.

“Stannis!” Robert shouted, clapping him on the back and then immediately enveloping him in a bear hug that would surely have cracked a lesser man’s spine. “Shireen!”

Shireen took a step back and waved hello at her uncle, clearly worried about her spine. Sensible girl.

“Have some nog and follow me! We’re just about to start singing.”

Stannis grimaced. _Singing?_

Shireen shrugged and gave him a look that said: ‘this was your idea.’

With a sigh Stannis started to follow his brother deeper into the house, casting a longing look at his coat. A maid was already putting it away.

Robert headed straight into an enormous drawing room. There were antlers everywhere. Some of them had been decorated with twinkling fairy lights, others had been draped with tinsel. A grand piano had been set up in the middle of the room and Stannis vaguely recognised the pianist sitting on the bench. No doubt he was far too talented to be stuck playing jingle bells for Robert’s drunk guests. Stannis also recognised many of the guests as being heads of department and board members from the company, but he could see family members too. The Estermonts were huddled together by the door to the balcony, and Jon Arryn’s widow was looking surprisingly happy on the arm of some accountant. Renly and Loras were hovering over by a bookcase in the corner, laughing and carrying half empty glasses of eggnog.

Steeling himself, Stannis walked over to his younger brother.

“Stannis!” Renly exclaimed, looking genuinely surprised for a moment. He was quick to recover, however, his expression becoming amused. “Are you here to show us how to party?”

Stannis would usually have started to grind his teeth at this point, but Shireen was standing next to him, already looking uncomfortable. For her sake he wanted to keep the conversation civil.

“Here,” he said, reaching into his suit jacket’s pocket and handing Renly the envelope inside. It wasn’t artisanal soap, but Stannis hoped it would do.

Renly laughed. “What’s this? A subpoena?”

Stannis clenched his jaw. “A gift.”

Renly’s eyes widened a little, the smile falling away for a second. Again he was quick to recover. “A gift? But Christmas Day was yesterday!” He laughed and shot Loras an amused look.

Stannis shrugged, feeling supremely uncomfortable.

Loras wasn’t laughing. “Why don’t you open it?” he suggested, smiling gently.

Renly tore into the envelope, his hands almost a blur. Stannis was reminded of Robert opening his presents when Mother and Father had still been alive. Always such a frantic rush.

Stannis felt his chest tighten.

“Tickets to see Swan Lake?” Renly said furrowing his brow. “Loras and I have a box at the King’s Landing Royal Ballet. We can go see shows whenever we want.” Renly handed the tickets to Loras without sparing them a second glance. “Honestly, don’t you know anything?” He snorted and shook his head.

Stannis stood stiffly and focused all his energy on not grinding his teeth. Shireen was touching his elbow gently, looking between him and Renly.

“I mean, why are you even trying?” Renly went on, letting out a laugh that sounded utterly devoid of mirth.

“Renly,” Loras said, his eyes fixed on the tickets.

“What?”

“These tickets aren’t for the King’s Landing ballet.”

Renly looked at Loras, his expression half annoyed, half confused. “What do you mean?”

“They’re for the Bolshoi.”

Renly’s mouth dropped open. “The Bolshoi?”

“In Moscow.”

Renly and Loras stared at each other for a second before turning - at exactly the same time - to stare at Stannis.

He cleared his throat. “I’d have included plane tickets, but I thought you might want to take the jet. I doubt Robert will mind.”

“The jet,” Renly said, deadpan. “The company jet? The ‘no Renly, it’s not for taking private holidays’ jet?”

Stannis shrugged, feeling a little helpless. Shireen tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, lending him her support.

“I’d ask who you are and what you’ve done with my lobster of an older brother, but I prefer you this way, so I’m not going to!” Renly laughed, and this time it was genuine. Joyful. “Loras, we’re going to Moscow!”

“Moscow?” Robert had drifted over. “Who’s going to Moscow?”

Excitedly, Renly explained Stannis’ gift.

“Well now I’m jealous!” Robert said. “Where’s my gift?”

Stannis almost lost his nerve. He hadn’t intended to tell Robert in front of Renly, Loras and Shireen. But this was the perfect opportunity. He straightened his back and took a subtle deep breath.

“I thought we might go to Storm’s End together. Just for a weekend.”

Robert’s expression darkened. “Storm’s End?”

“There’s an inn we could stay at near the manor,” Stannis went on, ignoring the pang he felt at the idea of going home but not _home._ “It’s been a long time since we were in the stormlands. I thought we might visit Mother and Father.”

Stannis hadn’t visited the graves since the day he had moved away from Storm’s End. It had been too painful to go anywhere near the manor he and Robert had lost. The place where they had grown up. Their _home._

 _It’s time to let go,_ Stannis thought to himself, taking a deep breath. _I’m not going to spend my life obsessing over a house._

Shireen nudged him and cast a significant look at Renly. Renly was looking unusually young and lost.

“You’d be welcome to join us, Renly,” Stannis said quietly, remembering the dream, remembering a little boy who just wanted to _stay_.

The three brothers were silent, staring at each other in turn.

“Renly gets a trip to vodka land, and I get a trip to the cemetery?” Robert chuckled. “You sure know how to spread Christmas cheer, brother.” He slapped both Stannis and Renly’s shoulders at the same time, causing them both to let out little ‘oomph’ sounds. “Now come on, it’s time for carols!”

With that, the mood was broken. None of them spoke of Stannis’ idea again that night, but there was something… different in the air. Something careful. Robert didn’t get quite as drunk as he usually did, and Renly didn’t say anything unnecessarily cruel.

Shireen stood by his side the whole night.

Stannis felt cautiously optimistic.

***

A lot of people took the few weekdays between Boxing Day and New Year’s Day off. Stannis did not. As soon as Sansa Stark arrived for work, however, he almost wished he had.

“Shit,” he muttered, staring through the glass wall of his office and feeling his face warm. She looked utterly gorgeous in her customary blazer and a tight pencil skirt. But she always looked gorgeous. It was just somehow harder to ignore it now that he knew what her lips felt like pressed against his own. _And what her breasts feel like pressed against my chest…_

It would probably feel very different to hold her while she was fully dressed, though. In that white silk robe she had been wearing on Christmas morning she might just as well have been naked.

The thought of her naked - all soft ivory skin and flowing red hair, pink blushes and rounded curves - made his mouth dry up. The next thought, the thought of being naked with her, pressing against her and burying himself in her softness, her _heat,_ sent the blood that had been reddening his face straight to his groin.

Sansa finished the task of putting her coat away and turned to smile at him through the glass. He didn’t return the smile. He was too paralysed to do anything except swallow. She started to walk towards the door of his office.

“ _Shit._ ”

He started to stand up, realised that his suit trousers did little to hide his embarrassing erection, and quickly sat back down.

Sansa opened the door without knocking. “Hi,” she said, still smiling.

He made a noise that might generously be interpreted as some sort of greeting. 

“Can we talk?”

He nodded and gestured at one of the chairs in front of his desk, desperately willing his body to behave and his vocabulary to present itself.

His vocabulary refused.

“So… um,” Sansa said, breaking the awkward silence, “I told Margaery that I didn’t want to meet up with Willas.”

“Oh?” he managed to say, his heart suddenly beating both far too forcefully and strangely irregularly.

“Yes,” Sansa bit her lip. “I didn’t mean to assume anything, but… I mean, we kissed. Twice.”

He nodded, the vivid memory of their second kiss - of her tongue sliding against his, of the soft moan that had escaped her when he had tasted her - causing more blood to rush south. _Gods, what am I? Thirteen?_

There was a long, drawn out silence.

“Do you maybe want to... “ Sansa blushed and looked down at her lap for a moment. When she looked up again, her eyes were searching his intently. “Do you want to kiss me again?”

Stannis knew he should probably say no. It was probably her destiny to marry Willas Tyrell and be absurdly happy with him. It was selfish of him to try to change that because of his strange dream. Hallucination. Whatever it was. And he was fairly sure Ned would do worse than elbow him between the ribs the next time he appeared if Stannis ruined Sansa’s life.

“I -” He cleared his throat, trying to find his voice. _I should take you to dinner first, shouldn’t I?_

“Because I really want to kiss you again,” Sansa said, not letting him finish. Her eyes were still searching, and Stannis wondered whether she was finding anything.

“You do?” he asked, his voice coming out remarkably smoothly. His head felt empty and oddly light. His heart was still skipping beats and then making up for it by pounding too hard and too fast at irregular intervals. All thoughts of dinner floated away.

Sansa glanced over her shoulder, obviously worried that someone else might have arrived outside Stannis’ office. But no one was there. They were quite alone. She fixed her gaze back on him.

“I really liked kissing you,” she said, her cheeks glowing pink.

Stannis wanted to say that he had liked it too, but he couldn’t. He only cleared his throat again and wished he had a glass of water. He was unbearably thirsty.

Sansa got to her feet and glanced over her shoulder again, scanning the area outside his office. It was still quite empty. She walked around to his side of the desk and paused, still worrying at her bottom lip. He couldn’t take his eyes off the the way her teeth made little indents in the soft flesh.

Stannis wondered whether she expected him to stand up. If he weren’t still dealing with his… trouser problem… he probably would have stood up already.

“Can I -?” Sansa cut herself off mid-question and started moving again. This time she dragged his chair away from the desk, the well-oiled wheels of his chair making not a sound, and carefully sat down right on top of him, balancing sideways across his thighs. He might have protested, but his mouth was busy.

As soon as she had sat down she had started to kiss him, arms around his neck, head tilted to the side to give him as much access to her parted lips as possible. 

Instinct took over, and he quite forgot to worry that she might encounter his raging erection if she were to shift around in his lap a bit. He kissed her hungrily, enjoying again the softness of her lips and her tongue, drowning in the taste of her, not caring that their teeth clicked together due to his greedy movements. He wanted to suck on her tongue. He wanted to nibble and bite at every delectable part of her. He practically wanted to _eat_ her.

 _I could,_ he thought to himself, a lustful haze settling over him. He found himself nibbling on her lips and groping his way down her back to her rear. Squeezing. _She came over here of her own free will. She wants this._

She squealed a little, and the sound went straight to his cock.

_I want this._

He licked into her mouth a little longer, groping her arse through the material of her sensible-yet-sexy pencil skirt, all semblance of rational thought fleeing his mind.

“Sansa...” he breathed into her mouth, nibbling on her lips again and then kissing a trail down to her neck and biting her there. Not hard. Just a little.

She moaned.

Without considering the matter further, he lifted her off his lap, encouraging her to stand. Her skirt was tight, but with a little determination and brute strength he managed to push it up until her panties were exposed.

“Stannis!” She sounded scandalised and breathless, and she was looking over her shoulder again.

“No one is going to see,” he said, knowing that Robert and Renly wouldn’t be coming in today. Neither would Renly’s assistant. Neither would Davos. And the few employees that _were_ coming in today, would probably stay as far away from the executive floor as possible. Stannis wasn’t exactly popular. “Sit.”

She hesitated for a second before scrambling to perch herself on his desk, her face still glowing pink.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” she asked, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “I mean, isn’t this a bit… fast?”

“Do you want me to stop?”

Sansa blinked at him, clearly thinking it over. Stannis watched as uncertainty melted away to be replaced with determination. She shook her head. “No.”

“Then I’m sure,” he said, his hunger intensifying.

Trusting that she would ask him to stop if she changed her mind, Stannis pushed her knees apart and rolled his chair into a convenient position between them. He could see that the crotch panel of her cream coloured panties was damp. He could see her thighs quivering.

He moved his head closer and inhaled, smelling her arousal: musky and heavy in the air.

Unable to contain the urge any longer, he bent forward licked the damp material that was shielding her from view. She gasped, but did not ask him to stop. He licked again, letting desire and instinct lead him.

Soon Sansa’s hand was resting on the back of his head, her nails scratching gently against his scalp.

He used his fingers to push the cream-coloured fabric to the side and hold it there. He poked between her folds with his tongue, noting with vague interest that she was mostly bare of any hair. He let his nose bump against her, and he licked more eagerly and more desperately than he ever had in his life. He wanted more and more of her taste - tangy and earthy and completely addictive - he wanted it to coat his tongue with it. He wanted to fill his mouth with it. With _her._

She was moaning in a way that made his cock jump, but he ignored it. He was feasting, and his cock could wait.

“We should… _oh_ , we should go somewhere…” Sansa said in between moans, tugging on the short hairs at the back of his head. “Oh, gods!”

Realising that he was onto something, he kept rubbing her with his tongue in exactly the same way, holding his breath and listening to Sansa’s cries get louder and louder. When it sounded as if she were ready to scream, he buried his face deep and sucked. Messily.

Listening to her squeal his name was highly satisfying.

He leant back, watching through heavy-lidded eyes as Sansa shuddered before him. The hunger that had consumed him quieted a little, and the rational thought that had fled him started to bleed back.

He blinked a few times. _Did I just eat Sansa Stark out on my desk?_ He shook his head experimentally. _Is this another hallucination?_ Stannis looked around, half expecting Ned to show up with a shotgun.

“We should really go somewhere,” Sansa said, her voice shaky. She was off his desk, wobbly on her heels and doing a poor job of pulling her skirt back down. Automatically, he reached to help her.

Once she looked somewhat presentable she gave him a bashful smile. “So? Are you coming?”

“I can’t,” he said, grimacing as she shifted in his chair. His erection had definitely reached the point of no return. And he was not about to walk out of this building with a newspaper or a hat covering his groin. That sort of thing was just not _dignified._

Sansa followed his eyes to his lap. She let out a nervous giggle. “Are you sure? I could help.”

He frowned, her stomach squirming uncomfortably at the idea that she might be laughing at him. “Help?”

She blushed. “You know. Help you come?”

He swallowed and forgot how to speak. His cock throbbed.

Carefully, Sansa lowered herself to her knees. Stannis almost forgot how to breathe too at that, but managed to struggle along. His mind cleared a bit when he noticed that she was looking at him with an expression that was more nervous than anything else. _That’s not right._

“I’m not - I’m not very good at this,” Sansa whispered, tugging at his belt. “Please tell me if I do something wrong.”

With her hands that close to his cock Stannis did not think he had it in him to be critical, but he knew he needed to say _something_. He didn’t like the nervous look in her eyes.

She managed to get his trousers open, and his cock immediately sprang up through the gap in his boxer briefs in an embarrassingly eager way.

Hesitantly, she wrapped her hand around the base, shooting him an uncertain look. “Is this all right?”

“You don’t have to do this,” he choked out, having finally recalled how to speak.

To his relief, the nervous look vanished. Her eyes blazed and she lifted her chin. “I want to.”

“Are you sure?” He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “I could take care of this myself.”

Sansa used her free hand to push a lock of hair behind one ear in a very determined way. “I’m sure.” Her voice sounded set in stone. “Just - I don’t know if I’m doing it the way you like. Could you show me?”

He stared at her, trying to ascertain whether she meant it. “You can grip it a little tighter,” he told her at length, hoping that she was really as determined as she looked. He clenched his jaw to prevent a groan of pleasure from escaping when she did as he instructed.

She started moving her hand, stroking him slowly. “Like this?”

Feeling a little boorish, he wrapped his own hand around hers to show her. “Here.” He guided her through a few pumps.

Sansa was a quick study, and Stannis let go of her hand after less than a minute, shutting his eyes and letting out the groan he’d been holding in. He was already much closer to the edge than he was proud of.

“ _Fuck -_ ” The swear word left his mouth before his eyes flew open to look at what Sansa was doing. 

She looked up at him, her lips still on the tip of his cock, kissing it. “Okay?” she asked, her eyes worried.

He nodded frantically and bit his tongue before he could become even more boorish and demand more.

Slowly, torturously, she began to pepper his cock with light fluttery kisses. Her lips were warm and soft, and it felt very good to have her kiss him, but it was not nearly _enough._ Thankfully she was still pumping with her hand. Otherwise he would most likely have lost his head and started begging.

“Tell me what you need - I know I’m not good at this…”

“Who told you that?” Stannis asked, trying to think straight and mostly failing.

“I - I think you know.” Sansa stopped looking up at him and slowed her hand.

_Joffrey._

Rage and arousal mixed oddly in his veins, making his skin itch. “Please listen to me very carefully,” he said through gritted teeth, trying to remain calm. “Unless you bite, there is no earthly way for you to be bad at this. Everything you have done so far feels good. Anything you can think of doing will feel good.”

She was looking back up at him, her eyes bright. “Really?” Her hand started moving faster.

He made a garbled noise that seemed to please her judging by her delighted little smile. “ _Yes._ ”

“Margaery says there’s a technique to doing this well, though,” Sansa said, giving his cock an experimental lick.

“Margaery Tyrell is a trollop,” he groaned, flexing his hands to keep from burying them rudely in Sansa’s hair.

Sansa glared up at him and stopped everything she was doing. “She’s my friend.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, almost tripping over his own tongue in his haste to get the words out. “Please don’t stop.”

Sansa gave him a suspicious look. “Are you really sorry?”

His cock throbbed and screamed for more attention. “Yes,” he said, his pride stinging. But it was an unimportant sting compared to the all-consuming need to have her touch him again.

Thankfully it seemed that Sansa had accepted his apology. She started stroking him, and rather than kiss or lick the tip of his cock, she enveloped it between her lips, swirling her tongue and giving it a little suck.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut. His hands no longer cared whether they were rude. One went to her shoulder, the other to the back of her head, trying to encourage her to stay in place.

Sansa’s free hand landed on the side of his thigh while the hand that was occupied with his cock sped up. She kept swirling her tongue and sucking, seemingly not offended by his rude hands.

Relief and pleasure coursed through him, making it hard to keep still. He wanted to thrust forward, he wanted to get deeper inside that warm, wet mouth.

“Sansa…” he rasped, his tone almost pleading.

She stopped moving, and he heard a little pop when her mouth disengaged. It was hard not to pull her head back towards his groin, but he forced himself to keep his hold on her polite, opened his eyes, and looked down.

“Is it good?” she asked, biting her swollen bottom lip.

“Yes, yes, Jesus, it’s extremely good,” he babbled, unable to keep his hands from nudging her just a little closer.

She smiled smugly at him. “Margaery said men liked it like that.”

He groaned and closed his eyes again. “Then Margaery is a saint. Please don’t stop.”

“A saint? I thought she was a trollop?” Sansa’s voice sounded much too innocent.

“I already said I was sorry,” he growled, tightening his hold on the back of her head. “ _Please._ ”

Thankfully it seemed that Sansa had had enough of teasing him. She put her hand and her mouth back to work, sucking and licking more enthusiastically whenever he made the slightest noise of pleasure. As soon as he realised this, he stopped trying to hold himself back. At first his mostly groaned incoherently, but swear words started to bubble up as he tried to cope with the way she was finally taking him in deeper.

“Fuck, yes, yes-yes-yes -”

The more he encouraged her, the more daring she became, and soon he was talking nonstop, not caring that he probably sounded absurd.

“God yes, just like that, fuck, don’t stop, _Jesus_...”

Sansa moaned, and the vibrations caused white-hot pleasure to course through him, tightening his balls and making him gasp.

“Fuck, I’m going to -”

A small sound of distress caused Stannis to let go of Sansa’s head, even though all he wanted to do was thrust forward and hold her in place as he came with more force than he had in _years._

He blinked down her, his vision blurry, and saw that she was scrunching her nose up and wiping her mouth. There was semen on the floor, on his boxer briefs, his trousers, and more was dribbling out of his cock and over Sansa’s hand.

It was a _mess._

“Sorry,” Sansa said, slowly retracting her hand. “I know it’s… I know it’s neater if I swallow.” She wasn’t meeting his eyes.

“It’s fine,” he said, still shaky from his orgasm. “It won’t take a minute to clean this up.” He took several deep breaths and tried to regain his bearings. He looked at Sansa more closely and frowned when she still wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Feeling a bit foolish, he reached out for her. “Are you all right?”

Sansa smiled brightly and looked at a spot somewhere over his left shoulder. “Fine! Just fine.”

He didn’t buy it.

Utterly out of his depth, he tried to think of the right thing to say. Nothing all that brilliant came to him. 

“Sansa?” he tried, hoping that she’d meet his eyes. His heart sped up when she did. Her expression was still unnaturally cheerful. “Are you _sure_ you’re all right?” 

He watched her eyes, trying to read her thoughts. They seemed to be staring through him. A nauseating thought suddenly occurred to him. “I didn’t intend to pressure you into doing something you don’t like doing,” he said, his stomach shrinking down to the size of a flea.

Sansa’s eyes widened and snapped into focus. “You didn’t! I wanted to. I really wanted to.” She sounded utterly sincere.

He breathed a sigh of relief, but frowned almost as soon as the air had left his lungs. “Then what -?”

She cut him off. “I just like being in control of how it ends.”

Stannis considered her words for a moment and nodded. “Of course.” The idea of coming in her mouth was certainly arousing, but only if she wanted it.

She blinked at him. “You don’t mind?”

He huffed out a loud breath. “Mind? Of course I don’t _mind._ ” He ran a hand through his hair, feeling his face warm up. “I - you - that was… I mean…” He forced himself to stop sputtering and collected his thoughts. “Sansa, what you did felt _very_ good. I will enjoy it no matter how you choose to end it.”

Sansa gave him a genuine smile, her eyes lighting up. “Really?”

He nodded and looked down at the mess he had made, letting out an amused breath. “Yes. Really.”

She ducked her head, but looked up almost at once, still smiling.

“Well, shall we get going then?” she asked.

Stannis nodded and did his best to return the smile, though the muscles at the corners of his mouth were sorely out of practise. It felt right to smile, however. He seemed to have managed to say the right thing; Sansa still wanted to spend more time with him.

It took more than a minute to clean up the mess, but Stannis didn’t care. He just hoped no one would notice the wet stain on his suit trousers where he’d tried to scrub the semen away. Thankfully he was wearing black.

***

Sansa’s heart was still beating much too fast. Walking out of the office building with Stannis, pretending that they hadn’t just… done what they had just done… and that they weren’t heading for the nearest hotel to probably do some more of it, was making her head feel like it was on the verge of exploding.

… Had she really let Stannis go down on her? Margaery had told her that decent men did that for their lovers, but Sansa had never experienced it before. And she had _definitely_ never experienced it with her skirt bunched up, sitting on her sort-of-boss’s desk with her panties pushed to the side, in an office with walls made of _glass._

 _What if someone had seen us?_

At least when she had returned the favour they had been somewhat hidden from view by Stannis’ desk…

With a series of deep breaths, she tried to will her heart to slow down.

She didn’t know how to categorise half the things she was feeling. Was she going crazy? She had always been a third date sort of girl. Not that she’d reached the third date with many men. Mostly just Joffrey.

She closed her eyes and tried to push all thoughts of Joffrey aside, letting Stannis lead her across the busy intersection when the light turned green. The nearest hotel was only a two minute walk away from the office. Stannis said it would take less time to walk than to drive. Even taking her heels into account.

She was over everything Joffrey had put her through - or as over it as it was possible to be, according to her therapist - but going down on Stannis had brought back some uncomfortable memories. Thankfully, Stannis hadn’t behaved anything like Joffrey had the few times she had ended up in a similar situation with him. Stannis hadn’t said anything cruel or demeaning. Quite the opposite. Blood rushed to her cheeks as she recalled the way Stannis’ voice had sounded when he had been encouraging her, and she felt a wave of heat move through her, pooling between her thighs.

Maybe next time she could try swallowing? She was sure Stannis wouldn’t try to make her gag.

Based on everything she knew about Stannis, she couldn’t really see him trying to to make her miserable to please himself. The man didn’t even expect her to bring him coffee. And he’d apologised for asking her to do a bit of _filing._ Not to mention the fact that he’d said that he didn’t mind letting her decide how to end things when she went down on him, _and_ that he had gone down on her before accepting any pleasure himself.

Sansa stopped breathing for a moment, the memory of his mouth melting her insides.

Keeping a straight face while Stannis booked them a room was harder than Sansa expected. She kept wanting to wring her hands and apologise for not having any luggage. The lady at the reception desk just smiled. Was that a knowing look in her eyes? Was she seeing how flustered Sansa was?

She tried not to think about it.

Stannis kissed her the second they managed to get the door to their room closed behind them. The kiss was almost as hungry as the one he’d given her when she had sat on his lap earlier, and Sansa did her best to meet his tongue stroke for stroke.

Without speaking, still kissing, they started to undress themselves and each other - pretty much just tearing off any article of clothing they could reach - and Sansa hoped they were walking towards a bed. She was going backwards so she had no idea. All she could feel was the heat of Stannis’ mouth, the excitement of having his tongue curl against hers, and the scratchy sensation of his closely shaved skin rubbing against her face.

The backs of her knees hit something soft as soon as Stannis started kissing her neck and kneading her breasts through her bra, causing her heart to go into overdrive. His hands were so _big._ Her skirt was still on, but she could feel Stannis fumbling with the zipper, her breasts temporarily abandoned. She groped him blindly in return, feeling his bare chest for a moment before reaching his back and scratching lightly at his shoulder blades. _Gods, he’s fit…_

She was forced to abandon his back when he stepped away, his hands going to his belt. She watched in fascination as he fumbled with his belt buckle, cursing under his breath. She could see the muscles of his arms and his abdomen flexing slightly as he moved, shadows playing on his skin. She had never seen him look so… frantic. Eager. The Stannis she had come to know was always composed. Always dignified. Seeing him lose his composure, knowing that it was because of _her…_

A small, needy noise left her throat without her permission. 

He looked up and fixed her with a hungry look. She sucked in a shuddering breath and had to focus all her energy on keeping herself upright.

He kept looking at her as he finished getting his belt off and his fly open. He stopped moving his hands.

“Want to help me get these off?” he asked, his voice a little hoarse.

She nodded and stumbled forward on weak knees, reaching for the waistband of his trousers. They fell to the floor with a bit of coaxing, but Sansa hardly noticed Stannis stepping out of them. He was kissing her again, and guiding her hands to his boxer briefs. The fabric was a little wet in the places where Sansa guessed he’d needed to scrub some semen away, and she felt herself blush at the thought.

Stannis stroked her back, lingering at the clasp of her bra. She felt him tug at it, but it didn’t come undone. He pulled away from her mouth, biting her lower lip gently before releasing it.

“Could you unclasp it?” he asked, his voice still hoarse.

She nodded and did as he asked, feeling as if her skin would burst into flame if he stopped touching her.

He pulled her skirt down over her thighs right as she dropped her bra to the floor, leaving her standing in only her panties and her heels, her breath hitched in her throat.

Stannis straightened his back and _stared_ at her, making it impossible for her to think coherently. All she could do was try to regulate her breathing and try not to die. Her stomach was writhing and her heart was pounding as if she were confronting a bear.

“You... “ he said, his voice strained, his eyes roaming all over her body, but lingering noticeably on her breasts. He took a loud breath, his nostrils flaring, and closed his mouth.

Her brain went into overdrive. Was his reaction good? Or bad? Did he like the way she looked? Did he prefer breasts to be bigger? Or smaller? Did he hate that stupid mole above her navel? She knew she should have had it removed. Next time she saw her dermatologist she would definitely have it removed.

“I don’t - I don’t have the words,” he said a century later, derailing her frantic train of thought. He was still staring, and his face was flushed.

A flood of warm relief swept through her. Relief and something light and bubbly. Had looking at her actually made _Stannis Baratheon_ speechless?

The bubbly feeling did not last very long, however. His eyes were still piercing, and seeing him without his shirt on was incredibly distracting. She’d wondered what he looked like without his clothes often enough, and now she could actually look her fill. As she had suspected, he wasn’t like the men in the magazines - not buff and bronzed - but he was obviously strong. Strong and lean and covered in just the right amount of hair. The trail that disappeared into his tented boxer briefs was particularly fascinating.

“Lie down.” His voice was low but deliciously deep, and she fancied that she could feel it as much as hear it, whispering over her skin.

Her knees gave out and she let herself collapse backwards onto the bed. The sheets were crisp and clean, the mattress soft.

Stannis knelt beside her and reached for her panties, tugging them downwards. She lifted her hips to help him, enjoying the way his hands felt as he dragged the material down her thighs. He wasn’t calloused, but the skin of his hands was still rougher than hers, and the memory of how his fingers had felt when he had moved her panties aside earlier, making room for his mouth, made her shudder.

Stannis got her panties all the way off and started to struggle with the little straps that kept her heels in place. After a few minutes he cursed under his breath and stopped trying. She wondered for a moment whether she should take them off herself, but decided it wasn’t important when he kissed her.

Gods, she’d happily lie in this bed and let him kiss her until next Christmas.

She felt more than saw him take his own underwear off, and then just like that, he was on top of her. His skin was warm and _everywhere_ , the hair on his chest rubbing against her strangely. His cock felt hot and heavy where he was trying to settle it between her thighs, and his hands felt like iron where they clutched her thighs, encouraging her to make room for him.

Without meaning to, she stiffened up.

He froze, too. “What is it?”

Her stomach shrank down, and she made herself take a few deep breaths. Her face was burning. “Nothing, I’m fine. Keep going.”

Stannis rolled to the side, keeping close, but no longer pressing her into the mattress with his weight. “No you’re not,” he said, frowning at her. “You’re stiff as a board.”

She tried to give him her best approximation of a sexy look. “So are you.” She stroked his cock lightly.

His hips responded eagerly to her touch, thrusting up towards her hand and provoking a fresh gush of heat within her despite her trepidation. Stannis gave her a serious look.“Tell me. Did I hurt you? Was I going too fast?”

Sansa took a deep breath. _He isn’t like Joffrey. This is different. I want this._ “A little fast, maybe,” she whispered.

“Do you want to stop? Or would… would you prefer being on top?” Stannis asked, rising up to one elbow and looking down at her with concern.

She closed her eyes and pictured it, her heart speeding up. She’d be able to straddle him, look down on him, play with his cock and take him inside as slowly as she wanted… 

“Yes.” She said, opening her eyes. “I mean, no, I don’t want to stop, but yes I’d like to try… you know. Is that okay?” She felt flustered and a little silly, but Stannis did not seem annoyed.

He nodded and got on his back without a word. 

Sansa rolled to her side, facing him, not wanting to get on top right away. Instead she let her hand trail down his chest, tugging on the whorls of hair around his nipples, and then tracing the outline of his abs.

Her heart was slowing down, and breathing was much easier. She felt as if she could think more clearly, and her feelings felt less muddled.

 _I want this,_ she thought again, somehow more loudly. _I want him._

She let herself relax. She had Stannis Baratheon at her fingertips; a man she had been admiring in secret for _months._ Why not let herself enjoy this?

His cock jumped when her fingers started to walk through the trail of hair that led towards it, and Sansa shot him a smile. “Impatient?”

She felt like herself again. As if nothing bad or tragic had ever happened to her. Her heart expanded, and the bubbly feeling from before returned.

“Not at all,” Stannis said. She didn’t believe him. His voice sounded _very_ strained.

“Then I guess this is a good time to talk about birth control?” she said, tilting her head to the side as innocently as she could.

His eyes widened with the naked fear of the condom-less man.

“Don’t worry, I’m on the pill,” she said after letting him stare at her in mute horror for a few seconds. “And I’m clean. Are you?”

“I get check-ups every year, and I haven’t… I haven’t been with anyone since my last clean bill of health.” His face reddened and he looked off to the side.

Sansa wasn’t sure whether she was surprised or not. Stannis was certainly not a philanderer like his older brother, but she wouldn’t have been shocked if some other woman had seen what she had seen. Wanted what she wanted. She was selfishly glad that no one had. At least not recently.

She rose up and straddled his thighs. “Okay then,” she said, taking a deep breath and smiling again. His cock bumped against her, and Sansa closed her eyes and sat down, trapping it between their bodies. She hadn’t taken him inside, but she was so wet, and so turned on, that it felt incredible to just rub up against him.

He was groaning, and she could feel his hands on her rear, squeezing and fondling her cheeks.

“Do you like this?” she asked, biting her lip as she felt herself grow even more slick for him.

He bucked up and squeezed harder, his groans turning a little growly.

As much as she liked rubbing up against him, she knew how he felt. She was starting to feel a very empty ache inside.

Rising up to her knees to give herself room to manoeuvre, Sansa wrapped a hand around his cock to hold it steady. It took her a couple of tries to notch it into place, but it was obvious when she managed it -- they both moaned.

Sansa had intended to take it slow. Sink down inch by inch to enjoy it _properly._ After all, she was fairly sure - though she was certainly no expert - that Stannis had the sort of cock that men wanted to have, and women wanted to have inside them. However, due to one slippery thing and another, Sansa ended up going much faster, gasping at the sensation of being stretched and _filled._

“ _Fuck._ ” Stannis’ face was scrunched up and his teeth were bared.

“Bad?” Sansa asked, trying to keep from squirming.

“Good,” he ground out, bucking up. “Tight.”

Feeling a little wicked, she squeezed her inner muscles, wanting to know what he’d do.

He made a guttural noise that washed through her like a wave and started her heart racing like never before. Without conscious thought she started to grind herself down on him, rolling her hips and rubbing against him like a cat in heat. He bucked up again, clearly desperate for more than grinding.

For a few minutes they struggled, Stannis trying to establish one kind of rhythm while she was determined to stay her own course.

“Stay still,” she eventually ordered, placing one hand on the middle of his chest and pressing down lightly.

He obeyed. Mostly.

She found the movement that brought her the most pleasure and stuck with it, relieved that Stannis was only moving his hands now. She gasped when he started playing with her nipples, flicking them with his fingers, pinching and stroking. It was electric, and his fingers triggered sensations that traveled down to her core, increasing her need. She started to grind faster, desperate for more and more friction.

Soon she was close, unbelievably close, and she heard herself start to beg. “Yes - please, _yes._ ” She wasn’t sure whether she was begging Stannis to keep doing what he was doing to her breasts, or whether she was simply begging her body to get where it was going.

When she hit just the right spot and heat burned through her, turning her muscles to butter, she decided she didn’t care. Everything felt _perfect._

She slowed her movements until she was barely wriggling, curling her toes and mewling with pleasure.

“Would it be all right if we changed position?” Stannis asked, his words polite but his voice hoarse and strained.

She blinked down at him, feeling herself blush. “Oh, you’re not -?”

“Done? No. But if you don’t want to keep going -”

“I want to!” She covered her mouth with a hand, embarrassed by her outburst. “I mean, I don’t mind.”

Letting him get on top of her was easier this time. She knew it was coming, and they moved slowly in an effort to keep the embarrassing noises that happened when he pulled out of her and re-entered her to a minimum. He balanced his weight on his hands and knees, and Sansa somehow didn’t feel as trapped as she had before.

And _oh._ This angle felt good.

Stannis started to move, slowly for the first few strokes, but picking up the pace as soon as she started to moan. She was so tingly from her previous orgasm that having his body smack against hers with each thrust felt _amazing._ She didn’t even mind the loud slapping noises that might have made her blush otherwise.

Judging by the noises he was making, Stannis was enjoying himself too. They weren’t very loud - huffs and little grunts, occasionally more prolonged groans, but they sounded wonderful to her.

She was about to ask if he liked this when he suddenly shifted his body, raising himself up and pulling her legs up too, resting her calves against his chest and her ankles over his shoulders.

“What are you… ?”

He started to move, and Sansa’s question died on her lips. She closed her eyes and moaned, feeling as if her spine had just melted. He was in _deep,_ and he was putting his back into each thrust. She could feel each one all the way to her toes. A different sort of pleasure was starting to build inside her, ratcheting up with every firm stroke of his cock. It made her abdominal muscles cramp up, and felt deeper and more devastating than any pleasure she had ever been able to give herself.

“Stannis - oh god, what are you… oh my _god!_ ”

She heard him cry out as if he were far away, the fog of her own orgasm making it hard to concentrate. She could feel him shuddering and thrusting erratically, his hands encircling her ankles and squeezing. But mostly she just felt _good._

The next thing she knew they were lying side by side, breathing a little too loudly.

“How did you do that?” she asked, sounding a little drunk even to her own ears.

“Do what?” he asked. He sounded more sleepy than drunk. But that might have been because of the yawn.

“I don’t know,” she said, gesturing vaguely with one hand before letting it fall back down on the bed as if it were a puppet whose strings had been cut. “I’ve never had an orgasm like that.”

Usually she might have felt embarrassed to say something like that out loud. But her brain was in a lovely sex haze, and she didn’t care.

“I just did what felt right,” Stannis said, yawning again.

 _Is he really falling asleep? It isn’t even time for lunch yet._ A jaw-cracking yawn interrupted her thoughts.

“Well, it was really good,” she said, stifling another yawn. “We should… we should do it again.”

Stannis pulled her close and settled her against his chest, his eyes already closed, his breathing already deep and slow. “In a minute,” he murmured.

The last thing Sansa thought before drifting off was that she felt safe.

 

It wasn’t until several days later that Sansa realised that it was in Stannis’ arms that she had felt her first true sense of safety since the loss of her family.

***

It was Christmas Eve. A year had gone by since Stannis had dreamt of the past, the present, and the future. A part of him wondered whether he’d be seeing Uncle Lomas and Ned Stark again tonight, but as soon as the thought occurred to him he grimaced. He never wanted to be faced with Ned Stark’s ghost again. If glancing at Sansa’s breasts was enough to warrant bruised ribs, he did not want to know what everything he had done with her for the past year would win him.

“What are you thinking about?” Sansa touched his shoulder lightly, smiling at him when he turned to look at her.

“Your father,” he said, still grimacing.

“Oh? What about him?”

“I’m wondering whether he’d give us his blessing,” he said, reaching for her left hand and kissing the ring she had accepted all of two days ago. (He had meant to propose tonight, but he hadn’t been able to wait.)

“Judging by your expression you’re not optimistic,” Sansa said, raising an eyebrow.

Stannis looked back at the selection of ties he had spread out on the bed, frowning at the red and green one. _Where did this monstrosity come from?_

“Well, I have been defiling you out of wedlock for nearly a year,” he said, picking the red and green tie up. “What’s this?”

“It’s a gift from Renly,” Sansa said, smiling. “He said you should wear it to dinner.”

A strange, warm feeling settled in his stomach. “It’s hideous.”

“It’s festive!”

Sensing that this was a battle he would not win, Stannis started to put the tie on, unable to muster the appropriate amount of grumpiness such a hideous article of clothing deserved. Renly had given him a _gift._

“I think my father would give us his blessing,” Sansa said when he turned to face her again, letting her fuss with the tie and straighten it. “You’re a lot like him, you know.”

“Oh?” Stannis wasn’t sure he liked where this was going.

“Good, honourable, a little frowny.” She kissed him. “Handsome in your own broody sort of way.” She paused to smile, a far off look in her eyes. “And you make me feel safe.”

He felt a lump appear in his throat and tried to swallow it down.

As if she could sense what he was feeling - or perhaps simply because she felt the same way - she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

When they broke apart Stannis cleared his throat. “Er, who’s minding the turkey?”

“It’s minding itself,” Sansa said, waving a hand carelessly in the air. “And Shireen’s downstairs if anything starts to burn.”

He finished getting dressed in a hurry, knowing that the turkey was probably due to be basted. Sansa could not be trusted in the kitchen. Neither could he, really. But he did have a few years of experience on her. He knew that turkeys needed to be basted. Marya had said so. Often.

Stannis ended up having to call Marya up on the phone in order to get some last minute help. And with her talking him through the finer points, he managed to get the turkey and all the trimmings on the dinner table without any major disasters. Sansa and Shireen helped, and when Renly and Loras arrived, they made themselves somewhat useful, too. Robert made himself useful by staying out of everyone’s way and busying himself with the wine.

“Myrcella was sad that she couldn’t make it,” he said when they had all taken their places at the dinner table. “She would have liked to come. But she told me to say congratulations on the engagement, and that she hopes that she’s invited to the wedding.”

Sansa beamed at Robert. “Of course she’ll be invited.”

Robert grinned back and sipped his wine. “Excellent vintage, this,” he said, swirling the ruby red liquid around and smacking his lips. “Supposed to be great with lamb.”

Ever since Robert stopped drinking whiskey, he’d become a wine snob. Stannis thought it was obnoxious, but he had to admit that Robert was drinking less, and seemed to be enjoying the alcohol instead of drowning himself in it.

“It’s a good thing we’re eating turkey, then,” Renly said, rolling his eyes.

“Hush,” Shireen said. She lifted her glass of wine and cleared her throat. “I’d like to propose a toast.”

Stannis watched as everyone reached for a glass and gave her an expectant look. Sansa shot him a quick smile before giving her full attention to Shireen.

“To my dad,” Shireen said, a smile playing on her lips, “to Christmas, to new beginnings, and most importantly: to new family members.”

“To family,” they all murmured, lifting their glasses and taking sips. Sansa’s eyes shone with emotion as she lowered her glass, and Stannis saw her mouthing something that looked like ‘thank you’ at his daughter.

He didn’t start eating right away like the others did. He took another sip of his wine, thinking about Shireen’s words and allowing himself to feel warm and at peace.

His new beginning had started a year ago with a strange dream. He could still recall how frightening the future he had seen had seemed. How _real._ But Stannis knew that if he were to have the exact same dream tonight, it would have no effect on him.

Things were so different now.

He looked at the people gathered around him, eating and talking and smiling. Together as a family.

Though he would probably never get along _perfectly_ well with his brothers, he felt as if he had regained a family he had lost by reaching out to them. And the new family he and Sansa were starting together felt like a miracle to him. They had both been lost and alone, and now… now they were together. Safe.

Even the loss of Storm’s End didn’t bother him very much anymore. He still thought of his childhood home with fondness, but lately he had been realising that it wasn’t the place he had missed as much as he had missed the _feeling_ of the manor. The feeling of belonging. Of being wanted. 

Stannis could hardly believe it had taken him so long to realise it.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Sansa whispered, squeezing his knee under the table.

He leaned in close so that he might speak right into her ear without being overheard. “Ravenous,” he said, stealing a quick kiss.

She blushed and shook her head at him, though her eyes gleamed with interest.

Pleased with himself, he picked up his cutlery and started to eat, full of the absolute certainty that he belonged right where he was.

**The end.**


End file.
